


Send in The Clowns!

by stinkyfic



Category: The Terror (TV 2018), The Terror - Dan Simmons
Genre: (oh yeah and theyre all dressed as clowns), -But only for Mcdonald and Stanley, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Begging, Dirty Talk, Drunkenness, Established Relationship, Frottage, Impact Play, Light BDSM, M/M, Manhandling, Masturbation, Multi, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay, Period Typical Attitudes, Pet Names, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Play, Praise Kink, Rutting, Smoking, Teasing, Threesome - M/M/M, Verbal Humiliation, au where the carnivale was just a fun little party :), brat mcdonald, goodsir uses his manners, hard dom stanley who is soft actually but won't admit it, harry just losing his mind in the middle, set during the carnivale except like stanley doesn't...Do That, they involve goodsir as their cheeky little third much to goodsir's delight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:48:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29392209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stinkyfic/pseuds/stinkyfic
Summary: “Funny, I always thought you to have rather bland tastes.”“And you’re the expert on my tastes now, are you McDonald?”Goodsir stumbles across McDonald and Stanley as they're trying to find some privacy in the hellscape that is Carnivale. Spurred by drink, Goodsir attempts to make a move on Mcdonald after the man has been flirting with him all night, but he was unaware that McDonald and Stanley come as a package deal...
Relationships: Alexander McDonald/Stephen S. Stanley, Harry D. S. Goodsir/Alexander McDonald, Harry D. S. Goodsir/Alexander McDonald/Stephen S. Stanley, Harry D. S. Goodsir/Stephen S. Stanley
Comments: 18
Kudos: 23
Collections: The Terror Rarepair Week 2021





	1. Whiskey and Tobacco

**Author's Note:**

> So this was to fill the Thursday "Carnivale/Shameless Flirting" prompt for The Terror RarePair Week 2021, but this ended up being way long that I intended and so it's a couple of days late!  
> The first chapter is building the tension, the second chapter is a whopping 10k of smut, so enjoy that!  
> Goodsir is wearing a clown costume here 'cus I was sad he never got to dress up in the show, I actually did some fanart a while back of ClownSir, so if you need a visual aid, you can find that [HERE](https://casuallystinky.tumblr.com/post/641514251488575488/carnivale-clownsir-we-were-robbed-remember)

There was a small makeshift room off the side of the Carnivale tent, just a tiny thing, made up of some of the leftover sails and beams. This room was being used to store extras- extra food, extra booze, the odd coat that would no longer fit in the crammed cloakroom, extra oil lanterns, and now- as Harry Goodsir stumbled into the small space- extra people.

Harry had intended to come here for a brief moment of sacred privacy, away from the bustle of the men, and to escape a rather forlorn conversation he had been caught in with an intoxicated Morfin. 

As he pushed his way through the stiff sails, repurposed into a makeshift flap for the door, he was met with the figures of Dr Stanley and Dr McDonald, leaning on barrels across from one another. Stanley was smoking a pipe; McDonald had a cigarette rolled in the corner of his mouth. They were both dressed as clowns.

“Goodsir!” McDonald cried, elated to see the assistant surgeon, the cigarette bobbing on his lip as he smiled.

Harry, a little shell shocked to see the two of them, gave a small breathless noise that he hoped communicated he was pleased to see him too. His head was swimming slightly from his third drink of whiskey (Fitzjames had insisted that he drink from his private collection, as a sign of gratitude for all the naturalist work he had presented) and even his Scottish roots couldn’t keep up with the strength of the rum that the men had prepared.

As he looked at McDonald, he could tell that the man was in a similar state, but he was holding together slightly better- no doubt his advanced years in the doctoring profession (of which was notorious for drink) had settled his limits to far above Harry.

The man’s tawny hair might have been neatly styled at the beginning of the night, but now a few thick curls hung in front of his face which glistened with white grease paint. A cone hat often worn by Pierrot clowns sat fixed to his head with ribbon and his nose was painted red, a great purple ruff sat over the open collar of his frock coat, acting as a ridiculous sort of necktie.

“Come in, laddie!” He exclaimed, drawing his cigarette away from his mouth, gesturing to Harry. “Me and the Doctor were just discussing a lovely tobogganist I used to frequent back in Edinburgh!” he laughed, his hazel eyes dark and speckled with an orange glow.

Harry moved uncertainly into the small room, sort of taken aback as his plans of privacy were quickly fleeting. Had the two of them snuck off to smoke like tired aristocrats in a drawing room, running from the ladies of the house? The idea was actually quite hilarious to Harry. He had never expected Stanley, of all people, to be finding company in _anyone_ , let alone the overly chatty McDonald.

“Really?” Harry queried with enthusiasm, slurring. His head felt light and fuzzy but not unpleasant as he moved towards McDonald, letting the doorway fall closed behind him, accentuating the tiny quarter of space and muffling the ruckus outside.

He cast a glance at Dr Stanley. He looked very displeased at Harry’s being here, gripping his pipe by the bulb, resting it on his chest. His gaze was cast to the floor with an angry frown, swaying on the spot. Harry didn’t think he had ever seen the Doctor intoxicated before. His neck was flushed as it disappeared under the white paint on his face, no other clown features painted on- simply white and ghostlike. It was a chilling costume choice, and it suited the stony exterior of the man perfectly. He wore his flat top officers cap and gold welsh wig, no clown hat, but he was wearing a ruff that was similar to McDonald's except that it was burgundy in colour and he wore it over his long overcoat. It was surprising that he had even dressed up _at all_.

“Of course not!” McDonald spoke again, clasping a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “But I can imagine that Dr Stanley here would _jump_ at the opportunity to discuss many such tiring subjects as _tobacco_ , right Doctor?” McDonald playfully bumped the toe of Stanley’s shoe with his own.

Harry was vaguely aware of a rising sense of dread as he laughed politely, fully expecting Stanley to berate McDonald for speaking to him in such a way. Instead, Stanley simply bit down on the stork of his pipe, glowering wordlessly across at McDonald as the tobacco glowed red in his pupils.

“I rather think that Mr McDonald here would much more willingly _‘jump’_ to talk about his own _frightfully boring_ time in Edinburgh, isn't that right?” he blew smoke out of his nose as he spoke, lifting his chin a fraction with a narrowed look in his eyes.

“Oh, call me _Doctor_ , wouldn’t you? I want to see you turn to ash as soon as the words leave your mouth.” McDonald's voice was that of a jovial tease, his face ultimately mirthful but with a glint in his eye.

Harry snapped his gaze to Stanley then, a little over excited by the way McDonald was pushing him, it was as if McDonald were living out Harry’s very own revenge fantasy.

Stanley stayed silent, steadily seething into his pipe once more. His white face glowed in the orange gloom, eyes two blue lights within.

McDonald turned to Harry then, squeezing his gentle hand where it still rested on Harry’s narrow shoulder, making his senses alight with the contact. His blood feeling thick and warm in his tongue, his teeth somewhat numb with drink.

“Good of you to join us with the outfits, lad!” he crowed, referring to Harry’s carnivale outfit that mimicked the other medical men, “Dr Peddie was sure that you lot on Erebus would never have agreed!”

“Oh, my pleasure!” Harry said rather excitedly, looking down at himself. He was wearing his usual black frock coat uniform but had on a beige ruff of his own. His face he had painted white- avoiding his mutton chops- and had drawn a red diamond on each cheek as well as a red nose. He was attempting to recreate the look of a clown he had once seen in London, although he knew that his attempt wasn’t anywhere near as artistic. His hair was loose, dark curls falling freely and rather overgrown without his welsh wig, and he wore no hat. It seemed only McDonald and Peddie had the luxury of clown hats over on Erebus. “I quite jump at the opportunity to dress up!” Harry laughed, although what he said hadn’t really been that funny.

McDonald laughed with him, his hand sliding to the middle of Harry’s back. Harry was vaguely aware of the warmth spreading through him at the contact as he continued to look up at McDonald, suddenly enamoured with the way the white paint had picked up on the tips of the man’s eyelashes.

“Is it still Bedlam out there, son?” McDonald took a drag from his cigarette between his words, his cheeks hollowing, brow furrowed as he kept the smoke in his throat.

“Oh well, depends on what you mean by ‘Bedlam’, Doctor.” Harry huffed a laugh, feeling the brogue that had been taught out of him in school slipping back briefly into his vowels, flattening the ‘oh’. He swayed on his feet, steadily bringing his hand to rest on the barrel behind McDonald, oddly careful not to brush the man with his fingers, as if he might be burned if he did.

“I think what McDonald means is: _are there still people out there?”_ Stanley accosted, briefly hidden by a plume of smoke, re-emerging with the same bitter look about him. The angriest clown Harry had ever seen, that’s for sure.

McDonald gave a weak laugh, twisting to stub his smoke out on the barrel behind him. Harry could feel the heat coming off the snubbed ash near his hand and it made his stomach flip slightly- he didn’t really know why.

“You’re funny as a clown, Stanley, maybe you should consider a career change.” McDonald clipped, brushing some ash off his ruff, not looking at Stanley. Harry couldn’t help but laugh, rich and from his chest.

Stanley shot him a glare and Harry immediately regretted it, some voice in the back of his foggy mind reminded him he had to work with the man the next day. McDonald's hand pushed lightly into his back, his fingers flexing against the material of Harry’s coat, Harry felt somewhat protected by it.

“What are you doing here anyway, Sirs?” Harry asked, turning to look up at McDonald again, not meeting Stanley’s eyes as they continued to glow with the embers in his pipe.

McDonald turned to him with a warm look, a lovely smile creasing the white paint around his cheeks, as if Harry were a valued dinner guest who had just complimented his house dressing.

“Oh, the same as you, of course!” he wrinkled his nose, that hand on Harry’s back sliding ever so confidently down to hold Harry’s waist. Harry felt his eyes widen, not shaking the feeling that he was being treated like a desirable young woman at a dance, being flirted with by a handsome gentleman. And, well, McDonald _was_ a handsome gentleman. He felt his entire body course with a heat that made his head lighter than the drink had, but he tried not to address it too much. McDonald was intoxicated and obviously very affectionate with it, it probably meant nothing. “The Doctor and I were simply looking for a quiet place to smoke.”

Harry made a noise of pleasant understanding, and then McDonald- _was he pulling Harry into him?_ Yes, he was. The surgeon was now hip-to-hip with the taller man, both sharing a barrel to lean back against, his hand almost unbearably hot on his waist. Harry let himself be moved with a small laugh, a little delirious, McDonald's ruff caressing his cheek, sticking to the face paint.

“Oh, well, I…” He spluttered, slurring even more so now, his figure leaning heavily against the other Scot’s as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The whiskey made his blood rush loudly and caused his tongue to tie, his heart fluttering in his chest. McDonald smiled down at him, closer than he had ever been to him. Harry found himself staring rather dumbfoundedly at the fiercely neat line the Doctor had created in his face paint to avoid his marvellous sideburns. “I was simply coming here for some quiet, I…” He swallowed hard as McDonald's attention bore on him completely and sincerely, “…don’t really…smoke.” Harry felt almost embarrassed by it, a childish confession.

McDonald’s body shifted against him, Harry’s shoulder laying heavily onto the man’s chest, feeling the warmth of him seeping through his coat as it rested on the flat plain of McDonald's breastbone. His hand rested on the barrel behind McDonald in an almost reciprocated embrace- entirely unintentional and yet giddily welcome.

“Don’t smoke?” McDonald laughed, needling Harry, his neck having to crane down to look at Harry as he gazed dumbly from where he leaned on McDonald. A smile pulled at his dark mutton chops. He supposed that if he were sober then he would have been awfully embarrassed by the closeness, but as he was, he simply enjoyed it, unashamedly grinning up at the tall, fetching doctor. “How on earth do you get through the day, hen?”

 _Hen?_ Harry’s mother used to call his sister ‘hen’, he was ashamed to admit that he felt suddenly very excited by the endearment being turned on him for once, and by another man no less.

“It’s just never agreed with my tastes.” Harry gave McDonald a searching look, thoroughly besotted. Something in McDonald's eyes glittered, imbibing the expression with well disguised greed, as if Harry was one of the many tumblers of golden whiskey he himself had drank down with desperate gratitude.

“Sensitive palette you’ve got there then, lad?” McDonald smiled, teasing him beautifully as if he were coaxing the bud of a young flower open between his thumb and forefinger, and Harry had never wanted to be split so badly. His heart beat hard in his chest, noticeable even through the layer of cotton wool the drink placed over him. He gave a feverish laugh, it sounded more like a bark.

“For smoke, yes.” He couldn’t help the suggestive tone as he spoke, the small sober voice in his mind screaming at Harry about the consequences he could face if he were in fact reading this situation all wrong. But McDonald made a small hum of enjoyment, and his hand slid deftly from Harry’s waist to his hip, giving a minor squeeze where it rested. Harry gasped around another coquettish laugh, his morals loosened with spirit.

Suddenly, it was as if Harry had only just remembered the existence of the other Doctor in the small space, and his blood ran briefly cold as he realised the openness of his flirtations with McDonald had been on full display. Quickly then, Harry risked a glance across to Dr Stanley, feeling somewhat exposed by the presence of the other man.

Stanley was perfectly still, pipe caught hard between the straight lines of his teeth. He had pressed the heel of each palm back on his own barrel, the lithe frame of his body cut a severe silhouette in the lengthy material of his black coat, his long legs crossed at the ankle, leaning gracefully as if he were a marble sculpture at rest. He looked rather marvellous, like a pencil drawing in a magazine- only with the bizarre addition of an Elizabethan ruff.

His face was notably guarded, the peak of his cap coming to shadow his eyes, but when his pupils picked up the coals of his pipe Harry could see he was staring hotly at McDonald, unsettlingly silent in his intoxication. His chest- pushed out due to his position- rising and falling with slow, even precision, as if slumbered.

McDonald followed Harry’s line of sight, catching eyes with the Doctor. Harry felt the Scot’s chest tense up against his shoulder, but as soon as it had happened it was smoothed over with a steady exhale that lilted with a chuckle. His hand squeezed once more on Harry’s hip, pressing him closer.

“Do you find that tobacco is too flavourful for _you_ , Doctor?” McDonald's voice was light and airy.

“No.” Stanley croaked around his pipe, spoken from the side of his mouth so that it looked as if he were snarling. The face paint made him appear almost featureless save for those cold glass eyes. Harry couldn’t withhold a bodily shiver, glad that it wasn’t him pinned under that gaze.

“Funny, I always thought you to have rather bland tastes.”

“And you’re the expert on my tastes now, are you McDonald?”

McDonald was purposefully silent, a smile twisting into the white paint of his face.

Harry couldn’t help but think that there was some underlying meaning to the conversation that he was either too drunk to understand or that didn’t exist for his ears. Before Harry could attempt to examine it (as much as his whiskey haze would allow) McDonald had turned back towards him, and his handsome face and direct gaze quickly evaporated any attempt at intellectual thought.

It was funny, Harry had spoken to McDonald multiple times- enough for the man to greet him enthusiastically when he entered the room- and yet Harry had never before considered the idea that, yes, there was something very magnetic about the taller man. He had known he was handsome, had thought so when he first saw him on Terror, but Harry had quickly pushed that observation aside.

His own personal tastes had been buried deep within him, forced closed before he had set foot on the expedition. He knew thoughts and temptations such as these would do him no good on a ship full of men. He was far from the private coffee houses and illustrious ‘men’s bars’ of home.

But wasn’t he also now far from _England_ , far from their rules about what is and what isn’t proper for a young gentleman to desire? The thought was heady and laid unexamined in the forefront of his mind, gnawing at him.

Maybe so. McDonald was warm and secure at his side, his gaze comforting and earnest. And Harry thought once more; _maybe so._

“I don’t know about you, hen, but I could do with another drink.” McDonald squeezed Harry in close to him for a brief second, as if in a quick embrace. Harry supposed it _was_ a quick embrace. He beamed against it, leaning his body weight comfortably on McDonald's.

He was about to agree, but then he remembered that all the men had to drink was that awful rum, and his face must have crumpled in some form of disgust because McDonald laughed.

“Goodness me, is it as bad as all that?” he cooed with mock sympathy, his free hand delicately coming to move a strand of hair where it had imprinted itself onto Harry’s face paint. He restrained himself from leaning into the touch, although his drink-muffled self-control almost embarrassed him.

“No, I was just remembering about that rum.” His voice was soft, but his dark brow furrowed, creasing. McDonald hummed in a sort of forlorn agreement, looking past Harry as if he were visualising the rum on the far wall, throat constricting under his ruff with silent displeasure.

“Well!” McDonald's gaze snapped back to Harry, smiling once more, “I’m sure the gracious Doctor might have something more to our tastes in his _official stash_?” He said this as if he had authority on the subject, turning his head to lock eyes with Stanley again, who hadn’t moved a muscle save to smoke his pipe.

“If such a thing exists, what makes you think I would share it with the likes of you?” Stanley’s voice rumbled in his chest, low and deliberate. Harry noticed how Stanley wasn’t addressing him. He steadily took his pipe from his mouth, resting it on his chest as McDonald spoke:

“Come now, Dr Stanley, don’t be so coy.” Insistent. Harry couldn’t help but let a smile grow as he looked between the two of them, marvelling at McDonald's sheer cheek and Stanley’s carefully controlled annoyance.

“I’m not in the habit of being _coy_.” Stanley bit out. As he had moved one hand from the barrel behind him to hold his pipe, it had dropped his shoulder, the other remaining up where he leant, giving him the appearance of a stalking cat.

“Well then, surely you’re more than okay with drinking watered-down rum all night?” McDonald needled, his hand sliding back up to Harry’s waist as if in comfort. He turned to Harry then and- much to Harry’s breathlessness- gave him a wink. They were now bonded together in this venture to get at Dr Stanley’s coveted liquor.

Stanley gave an annoyed sigh, his gaze flickering from McDonald to the door- as if he could see the bar through the cloth- and then, for the briefest moments- to Harry’s face. Harry felt his pulse quicken at the confrontation.

“This will not turn into a routine.” Stanley said with some defeat, glaring back at McDonald then who was visibly elated.

“Of course not, Doctor.” His voice dripped honey, he leaned away from Harry then, stooping to gather his coat from where it lay on the floor at his feet. Harry and Stanley both watched him as he pulled the sleeves on, trapping his ruff in the collar, leaving the coat unbuttoned. He noticed their eyes and made a dainty gesture to adjust his hat in faux professionalism. Harry laughed.

“You will find a decanter in my cabin.” Stanley hadn’t moved, McDonald shot him a look.

“Okay, well, you can show us.”

Stanley looked irritated.

“Surely you don’t need me to hold your hand back to the ship?” His voice was low with a grimace that didn’t show on his face. McDonald laughed quietly.

“Well, if you’re _offering_ , Doctor…”

“I’m comfortable here.”

“Yes, and you can continue to be comfortable _after_ you’ve escorted Mr Goodsir and I to your secret decanter.”

“ _Must_ we make this a group activity?” Stanley snapped, his gaze fierce. McDonald fixed him with a look that edged on threatening, shucking his coat more comfortably around his shoulders. Stanley held it for a while before sighing hard with the petulance of a child, tipping his head back to look at the make-shift ceiling. The tendons in his neck worked as he gritted his teeth, staring up, apparently trying to quell his temper.

Harry had never seen Stanley work so hard not to be angry- usually he was very well composed. There was a small silence, and then Stanley spoke again in a voice that was rough and quiet, still looking at the ceiling.

“You’re lucky I’m thoroughly inebriated.”

McDonald laughed gleefully, clasping a hand on Harry’s shoulder again- this time not to comfort (although it was still comforting) but to encourage him to leave with them.

Stanley pushed off the barrel and tapped his pipe against it, emptying the tobacco before placing it snugly in the inside pocket of his coat. He swayed as he stood, the buttons of his coat taking a lot of concentration.

Harry couldn’t help but feel a buzz of excitement as the three of them- no doubt looking a sight in full clown garb- trooped from the small storage room.

  
  



	2. Sherry and Saliva

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are lads, here's the 12K worth of porn!  
> Hope you enjoy it, it seriously took me FOREVER to write! (writing for three people is more difficult than you might think)

“What on _earth_ was Master Collins dressed as? Does _anyone_ know?” McDonald laughed as he and Harry followed the tall frame of Dr Stanley through the corridors back on Erebus. Their walk through the ice had only awakened the alcohol in their systems, pairing it with the odd giddy sensation you sometimes get when you’ve been out in the cold and are then introduced to a warm environment once more.

“I think it was, uh, some form of lion?” Harry ventured, leaning on McDonald slightly as he walked. McDonald placed his arm around his narrow shoulders, also incapable of walking a convincing straight line.

“Are we sure?” He looked bewildered at the idea, “Are we sure, Stanley?”

“Lion.” Stanley said from in front of them, as if he had made his mind up hours ago.

“Oh, the poor boy!” McDonald laughed graciously, moving his arm from around Harry to squeeze his shoulder instead, allowing them both more movement. He sighed wistfully, “He is a bonny lad, though.” He said as they rounded into the small dark cabin that belonged to the chief surgeon.

Harry looked at McDonald then, curious. McDonald caught his glance with a meaningful grin, his soft features ignited only from the lights from beyond the cabin as Stanley stumbled to try and light his oil lamp.

Before Harry could think any further, the room was plunged into light, and then there was little he could do but laugh rather brokenly as the image of the three of them in their clown garb hit him in earnest. They were crammed into Stanley’s small room, white face paint and various red noses illuminated harshly- all of them drunk.

“This is ludicrous.” He gasped. They looked like the set up to a bad joke.

Harry had been in Stanley’s cabin before, mostly to brief the man on certain events that had transpired in the medical bay that couldn’t wait until morning. A few times he had been ordered by the man himself to go collect something important from his shelves, and so Harry was vaguely familiar with the room by now- but this felt different. The room took on a sort of floating feeling you experience when plunged into familiar surroundings when you’re drunk, a kind of liminal space with a deafening silence about it. A silence that was still being disrupted by Harry’s helpless laughter.

He didn’t think he had ever laughed so openly around these men, especially not around Stanley, but the drink in his system made him incapable of caring. It wasn’t even that funny.

“Fool.” Came Stanley’s voice from further into his room, stern but not angry.

Harry forced himself to breath, composing himself and addressing the Doctor. He stood, sort of unsteadily, at the far end of the cabin (as far as this room would allow). His hat and welsh wig had been shucked but his coat remained on and open. _The tailor must have broken a sweat_ , Harry thought, _having to make a coat long enough to hit the calves of a man that tall_. He was holding a glass decanter that was reasonably full of what must have been sherry.

McDonald made a loud noise of approval, reaching Stanley’s side with only a few steps. Stanley was leaning against his table and as McDonald approached him, he twisted his body away, stretching his arm so the decanter was out of reach of McDonald’s grabbing hands.

McDonald wilted away from him, betrayed. Both men were near enough the same height, Stanley having about an inch and half on the other man and more in his chest and shoulders. The vision of them both stood so close together was one of bizarre hilarity, but Harry found that he enjoyed looking at the image, finding it rather attractive.

“Come now, Doctor, don’t be stingy…” McDonald crawled, looking miffed at the decanter, and then at Stanley’s face. Stanley held his gaze for a second in silence, studying the other man.

“You look ridiculous.” He uttered bluntly, as if this had been the first time Stanley had seen McDonald up-close all evening.

“You’re no picture of eloquence yourself, Doctor.”

“Hm.” Stanley side-stepped McDonald, skirting past him to the middle of the room.

He had been holding three glasses between the fingers of his other hand, sort of grouping them together with two fingers and a thumb, and Harry had only just noticed. He felt a warmth to be included, obvious now that Stanley did, in fact, know he existed simply by providing him a glass. And then he studied further, the way each long finger of the man held the edge of each glass so tightly and yet carefully, his thumb supporting them, and the pleasant warmth threatened to turn into something else. He looked away.

Stanley found his fold-down table at the end of his bed, pushing the oil lamp carefully with the glasses as he set them down, all his focus narrowed down to removing the stopper of the decanter and carefully pouring the ruby-brown liquid. McDonald had moved to look over his shoulder greedily.

“Sherry, hm?”

“You’re awfully talkative, aren’t you?” Stanley’s voice was disarmingly soft and Harry felt it tighten in his lower stomach.

McDonald gave another laugh, Harry could listen to that rich noise forever, then he turned his attention to Harry who was still standing by the door.

“Are we keeping you, lad?” there was no malice in his voice whatsoever, his eyes crinkled with that lovely smile. Harry immediately stepped further into the room, closing the door shut gently out of habit. Confirming that he wasn’t going to run away.

“Of course not, sir!” his voice was lilted, he glanced down at the three glasses of neat sherry briefly.

“Please, call me Alex!” McDonald had moved closer to him now, his hand finding his shoulder once more and squeezing in that reassuring warmth he had displayed in the tent. Harry looked up at McDonald as if the man had just given him a string of pearls, his dark eyes wide and ever so bottomless against the white of his face.

“I would love to, Alex.” His voice was wispy, as if afraid that he was somehow mistaken. McDonald enveloped him with his gaze, smiling down at him.

“I hope that you would, in turn, allow me to call you Harry?” Alex cocked his head slightly to the side as he looked into Harry’s face, his smile never faltering, his hand warm and grounding.

“Yes, please do.” Harry’s head was swimming, a potent mixture of alcohol and adrenaline buzzed in his ears, thrumming in his tendons, making him very hot under his clothes. McDonald- Alex- made a small chuckle low in his throat that sounded more like a hum, Harry felt it move through his body as if he were the surface of a river, rippling in a gently lapping breeze.

And then Alex turned away from him, turning back to Stanley. Harry could see that Stanley had paused in what he was doing, staring down into the three glasses as if he had been listening intently to their exchange. With the movements of Alex next to him, he took a small breath and replaced the stopper on the decanter, handing the other man a glass of sherry with his free hand.

Alex took it with a gracious thank you. Harry couldn’t ignore how their fingers brushed over one another’s with the action, almost imperceptible. Harry was suddenly hit with a realisation, several things coming to slot into place with a searing understanding.

When Stanley turned to give Harry his glass- decanter held in his other hand languidly at his hip- Harry was more than a little breathless. Dr Stanley caught his eyes, the light in the room had blown his pupils and his eyes appeared totally black with a striking ring of blue around them. His white face paint wasn’t as striking in this light either and it had creased under his eyes, smudged away from his mouth and accentuated the strong plains of his cheekbones and jaw, picking up in little thorns on a less-than-smooth shave.

Why hadn’t Harry ever noticed that the Doctor was handsome before? Did it really take three glasses of whiskey, or had Harry buried the observation as soon as the Doctor was cruel to him for the first time?

“I’m not a drinks holder, Mr Goodsir.” Stanley’s hard voice brought Harry out of his daze. He moved towards him, pressing the glass against Harry’s chest as if he could simply place the glass within him and be done with it. Harry felt the hardness of the crystal against his breastbone, and he gasped at the feeling, bringing his hand up quickly to grip the sherry.

If Harry had accidently met Stanley's fingers as he took the glass, then Stanley didn’t seem to notice. Or at least he didn’t address it. He moved away from him, leaning back against the table he had been at before, picking up his own glass as he passed it.

Alex had stripped himself of his overcoat, placing it on the back of a chair that was pushed neatly under the table where Stanley stood. His purple ruff was crumpled and just as ridiculous as it had looked before, his little hat had also been abandoned with his coat, his hair free to fall over his face as he sat himself on the edge of Stanley’s bed.

“Shame about the hat.” Harry piped up, taking a sip of his drink, the sherry tingled across the sides of his tongue, burning fragrant and pungent down his throat like drinking perfume.

“Ah yes,” Alex sighed, eyes twinkling, “I’ve never considered hats as my calling, you ken?”

“Aye.” Harry nodded, suddenly very Scottish, triggered by Alex's joking dialect. His accent was soft and definitely rural, and it disappeared as quickly as it had arisen.

“Where abouts were you raised, laddie?” Alex leaned back on his hand, crossing his legs in front of him where they stretched out across the floor, fixing Harry with a searching look. Harry flushed, both hands holding his glass.

“Ah… Anstruther.” He felt self-conscious about his accent slip.

“In Fife? Marvellous part of the country!”

“You know it?”

“Naturally!” Alex beamed; he patted the bed next to him gently. “Come sit soft, Harry, you look ever so lost over there.”

Harry smiled, swaying on the spot. He looked at the inviting space next to Alex, and then let his gaze travel slowly over to the man’s lap, his thighs clad in black wool. He corrected his gaze, but the glance had been noted, he could tell by the way Alex fixed him with a mischievous look over the brim of his glass. Harry lowered his eyes into his own glass, swilling the golden-red liquid, unable to stop a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. He had been noticed. He had been noticed and he hadn’t been shunned.

“Come now!” Alex’s voice was rasped with liquor, patting softly next to him again with more decision, “Before Stanley comes to his senses about letting us sit on his pristine sheets.”

Harry snorted, casting a glance to Stanley. He was looking down into his drink, as if about to take from it, but as soon as he heard his name mentioned his head lifted with a faraway expression. Harry must have been drunk because he found it quite endearing.

There was a frisson of energy in the room and now it seemed to turn on a hairpin as Harry made his way to sit next to Alex. Harry sat dutifully, comfortably, glass in one hand and one leg folded up on the bed so as to face Alex, the other hanging off the side.

“There we are…” Alex’s voice was softer now he was closer to him, his hand was immediately on the knee that Harry had placed on the bed, Harry felt the contact seem to short circuit up his thigh and into his pelvis, he smiled on it, his expression coming over very knowing. “Well…” Alex looked around himself at Stanley, then back to Goodsir, holding his glass aloft, “To health!”

The three of them knocked back their sherry at the same time, and by god, Stanley had poured a generous amount, it took at least three gulps before the glass was empty. The shock of it stung in Harry’s nose, catching in his throat, thrilling him with the brief illogical sensation of drowning.

As he bought his glass down again, he could see Alex gasping as his tastebuds settled, wincing slightly and red in the cheeks, visible through the way his face paint had cracked around his dimples and smile lines.

Harry looked at that stupid painted red nose, wanting to laugh again.

Alex took his glass from him gently, placing them both on the floor with a clink. Moving in closer, he adjusted his position so that his leg was also pulled up to mimic Harry’s body language. His face was very close now, the ghost of sherry on his breath as it hit Harry’s face, their knees almost touching.

“Right then,” His voice was a little wrecked, and Harry shivered at it, “How about I tell you about the time I treated a poor farm boy in Fife.”

Stanley was unmoved, he had put his empty glass on the table behind him but still had the decanter held by his side. His gaze lifted to meet Harry’s for a small moment, and Harry diverted from it with a skittish guilt.

Harry was quickly very hot, and he wished he had taken off his overcoat, feeling the effects of the sherry warming his neck and pushing sweat down his back. It was a luxury to feel this warm when surrounded by ice.

Alex had inched closer, the ruffs of their costumes intermingling with one another. Harry’s heart was in his throat, his pulse quick and hot. He knew what he wanted, had negotiated the same situations in the past with strangers in bars, although none of them had been quite as striking as Dr McDonald, nor as warm and welcoming. He knew Alex felt the same way, the man was practically in his lap, now all that needed to happen was for them to be alone.

Harry glanced quickly at Stanley then, who was looking down at his shoes, unreadable. He took the opportunity to place a hand on Alex's knee, light and tentative, his palm clammy. Alex never broke his gaze, but his eyes lit up.

“If it would interest you…” His voice was low, “Perhaps this story could be told in private?” he looked down then, some sense of shame creeping into him, looking at Alex through his dark lashes, hoping he would pick up on the request.

Alex's gaze softened, his brow rising, his tongue- pink against the white- darted to wet the corner of his mouth as he breathed steadily.

“ _Private_ , dear boy?”

“Yes.” He liked ‘dear boy’ very much, he wondered what other pet names Alex could have for him and his breathing stuttered at the thought.

Alex released a hum of laughter, dark and deep in his chest, his eyes clouded with something conspiratorial.

Before Harry could protest, Alex had bought his hands up, his fingers running through the soft fur of his whiskers, scraping through face paint. Harry’s body combusted at the touch, his face on fire as Alex rubbed his fingers behind his ears, his thumbs disappearing in his beard, stroking circles, bringing him closer.

“Now, why would we do that?”

“Because-” but Harry was cut off by Alex kissing him. It was chaste, simply a slow thing made to stop him talking, but it bought Harry’s body out in a shiver, his hand tightening on Alex's knee.

He felt humiliation pool in his gut, unable to stop himself from glancing at Dr Stanley.

He was watching them.

Stanley’s eyes sparkled with interest and yet there was a small sense of surprise in his brow. Harry seemed unable to look away, frozen in place as Alex gently guided his mouth against his own, like a rabbit caught within seconds of being swooped off by a hawk.

Alex broke with a laugh, lips still touching, following Harry’s line of sight to also look at Stanley. Stanley’s gaze passed coolly from Harry’s to Alex’s, never moving a muscle, a tall cipher in that handsome black coat.

Alex pressed his cheek to Harry’s, manoeuvring Harry’s face to look head-on at Stanley now, his skin hot and smooth on his own with the paint, his hands easily turning his head with their firm grip on his jaw.

“Do you not find the Doctor alluring, Harry?” he purred, his voice vibrating into Harry’s cheek. Harry’s breath hitched, his eyes falling closed for a second, a terrible heat rushing down his chest and pooling in his groin.

Stanley had bristled slightly at the confrontation, his head drawing up on his shoulders, brow furrowed, but his eyes were hot. Harry had never seen such a heat in them before.

Alex turned his head, pressing his nose against Harry’s temple, breathing a laugh against his ear that ran down Harry’s spine, pulling muscles tight with a ticklishness. Harry’s breathing was controlled but heavy, his dark eyes trained on Stanley’s as if this whole scenario would cease to exist as soon as he looked away.

“Do you not find him handsome?” Alex’s voice was a whisper, all knotted brogue and soft palette, speaking gently, directly into Harry’s ear. Harry’s body coiled up like a spring, his mouth falling open with a gasp as he looked at Stanley, aware now that the Doctor could no longer hear what Alex was saying.

“Haven’t you thought about what he might do to you? All alone in that little sick bay of yours?” Alex purred, and Harry stopped a mewl that threatened to leave his throat, because he _hadn’t_ but, by god, he was now, and the imagery of it hit him like a freight train. “He’s a strong man, strong hands…” Harry let his gaze drop to the Doctor’s hands where they rested at his sides, they twitched slightly under his gaze, gripping the neck of the decanter with white knuckles. Harry considered how they might feel on his body, how they might threaten to cover him completely, smother him. Open him up like the sweet flesh of a lily, sweet as death, pinned open like a butterfly, legs spread, back arched, hot core.

He moaned then, shivering, and Alex gasped over it, his body pressing closer to Harry’s. He gently gripped his chin with his fingers and thumb, his mouth gliding across his cheek, breathing hot onto his face, his own gaze coming to rest upon Stanley again.

Stanley looked back at them, his neck was red under his ruff, his face perfectly frozen in slight perplexion, breathing deeply.

“Do you ever look at him as you work? That cold expression can be so magnetic, can’t it? You think he’s going to be hard, but actually he’s very gentle, isn’t he, Harry?” Harry swallowed around his dry mouth, breath stuttering, eyes wanting to fall closed against Alex’s voice but not wanting to look away from Stanley, looking him in the face now, letting his eyes pick out each strong feature, each flicker of muscle as he stared back at him.

Harry could see the Doctor’s pulse hammering, caught in the wet concave of his throat, thumping like the heart of a bird.

Alex’s hand inched further up Harry’s thigh, making Harry twist a little as the pressure sent sparks to his cock, up his back. Stanley’s gaze flicked down then to the join between Harry’s thighs and Harry felt his eyes as an immense heat, as if it were a physical touch, he hitched a breath against it. Stanley’s mouth parted slightly as he observed the bulge there, he pressed himself further back into the table as if anchoring himself into reality.

“Come here, Stephen.” Alex's voice was silk laden, spoken into Harry’s hot skin, “Come and see what I’ve prepared for you.”

Harry’s back arched at his words, body pushing against Alex’s, a breathless noise leaving his lungs. He was a thing to be concocted, to be digested, to be given over completely, shared between these two men.

Stanley let out a steady breath through his open mouth, fumbling for a second but then firmly placing the decanter on the table behind him without ever breaking eye contact. It hit the surface with a thud, the stopper racketing where it sat within the neck. Harry cast his gaze to it cursorily, wanting nothing more than to experience the secureness of being blockaded in likeness, rattling within.

Stanley stripped from his coat as he approached them, letting it fall behind him on the floor, and then- _Christ-_ he sank to his knees at the bedside, tall frame folding up, eyes trained on Alex like a bird of prey. It was the only time Harry had ever seen Stanley use his height in a considerate way- or lack thereof, for now he was settled on the floor, resting on his shins, straight backed with his hands gripping each knee, just a head below eye-level with them.

“Look at him, Stephen.” Alex brought the hand that wasn’t holding Harry's face out and gently placed it to the side of Stanley’s jaw, Stanley let out a breath, his brow softening.

Harry wasn’t prepared for Stanley’s gaze to card over him as intensely as it did and he shuddered, feeling Alex place an open-mouthed kiss above the line of his whiskers. The Scot removed his other hand from Harry’s jaw, and then Harry shouted a soft moan, his shoulders trembling as Alex plunged it between the heat of his thighs, rubbing his open palm against Harry’s trapped cock.

“ _Oh_.” He breathed, his hand coming up to grip at Alex's forearm, keeping him there, pushing him further onto him, his hips stuttering, stomach pressing against the secure weight of Alex's arm. His eyes fluttered closed, head falling back. A small touch undoing him completely, opening him up. He spread his thighs for it.

Dr Stanley at once didn’t know where to look, hungrily observing Alex's caress, a furrow of sympathy on his brow as if he could feel the touch on his own body, breath shaking, blue eyes hard as a pinpoint flicking up to Harry’s face and then over to Alex, raking down his body.

“Goodness me, lad.” Alex cooed, his joviality taking on a whole new energy as he watched Harry squirm against him, kiss-bitten lips pulled tight over his teeth as he arched his back in desperation. “Oh, but you’re a bonny lad, aren’t you?” Alex’s free hand was on his face again, removed from Stanley’s in order to card through his whiskers.

Harry watched intently as Alex shifted his weight, the leg that had been hanging over the side of the bed was now bought up, the toe of his shoe pushing firmly into the soft place under Stanley’s ribcage. The man’s breath left him in a punch, but he never faltered, rooting his knees into the floor to take the pressure.

Harry’s hips stuttered at the display, a small moan leaving his throat. Alex caught him then, tightening his hand over Harry's cock, stopping his rutting, making him groan and fall forwards until his face was half buried in that purple ruff, viewing the display in front of him as if through a silk haze.

Alex leaned his face down close to Stanley, Harry anchored to his chest, pivoted by the hold Alex had on his cock, breathing hard.

“Don’t worry, my dear, I haven’t forgotten about you.” Alex's voice was low, at a pitch Harry had never heard before. He spoke almost directly into Stanley’s mouth.

“I’m not worried.” It was the first time Stanley had spoken since this had begun and Harry keened at the sound of his voice, something so familiar to him and yet in a tone that was so different, low and smooth, a hint of humour in it.

Alex made that hum of a laugh again and closed the gap between them with a small, slow kiss, sensual and lacking any theatrical performance often seen by first timers- as if they had done this many, many times before.

Harry felt his body heat up as he watched them, his chest tightening with brilliant pleasure as if his skin had been drawn taut and sensitive over his ribcage.

Alex slid his shoe down Stanley’s stomach, running first his sole, then his shin over the spread in his legs, rubbing against the inside of his thigh where his cock was swelling. Stanley broke the kiss with a hard swallow and a shudder that Harry mirrored as he watched from his place on Alex’s chest.

Alex focused his attention back on Harry, the hand that had been tangled in his whiskers was bought to the back of his head, pulling him in deeper, totally obscuring his vision. He squeezed his hand over his cock again, sending frissons of pleasure up Harry's body that made him arch, a soft moan hidden in the silk of the Scot’s costume.

“You will have to let go of my arm at some point, hen.” Alex spoke softly into the shell of Harry’s ear and Harry shivered, bringing his free hand round to grab at the material at Alex's waist, wanting to draw him closer but not knowing how.

He slowly unwound his fingers from Alex's forearm with a self-conscious laugh that was swallowed up into the man’s chest.

“There we go now,” Alex was saying, he placed both his hands on Harry's shoulders and drew him up, “Sit up, now, there’s a lad.” He was face to face with Alex again, he ran his hands over Harry’s face, smoothing paint off of his skin where it had creased under his eyes, pushing hair from his face. Harry closed his eyes against the touch, sighing. “Sorry to say that I’ve made quite a mess of your makeup.”

Harry laughed then, feeling warm.

“How ever shall I go to the Ball now?”

“I think the circus will dispose of you.”

Harry laughed once more and Alex pulled him in for a kiss, deepening it immediately. The laugh had barely died down in his throat before it turned into a moan. He was vaguely aware of Stanley’s laboured breathing where Alex hadn’t stopped his caress on him, and it formed heat further through his stomach, settling in his pelvis.

Alex pulled away then with a gasp and he looked beside him where Stanley had gently brought his mouth down, pushing his teeth into Alex's knee as he continued to move against him. His eyes were trained on him with the ferocity of a caged lion, legs visibly shaking and perspiration on his brow.

Harry’s breath caught in his throat, his cock pulsing- _what a sight._

“Oh dear…” Alex's voice took on a disappointed maternal tone, bringing a hand from Harry’s face to card it through Stanley’s fine hair, “Someone isn’t being very patient.”

“Don’t test me, Alexander…” Stanley spoke into his knee, eyes threatening to close as Alex stilled his leg but didn’t surrender the pressure on Stanley’s length. “I can only obey you for so long.”

“Very well…” Alex clipped, but he sounded pleased with himself. He took his leg away from Stanley and the Doctor physically relaxed, breathing a steady breath. “But you are _very_ good at it, darling.” Stanley baulked at that, his gaze darting up to Alex again with a murderous expression.

Harry couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him, but as Stanley’s expression turned to him, he regretted it. He moved on the floor, gracefully standing himself up with a small wince, knees creaking, and Harry looked up and _up_ into his face, suddenly looming over him. The white paint had all but dripped down his face with sweat, only catching still in the creases of his brow and on his stubble, his jaw tight, his eyes piercing and _hungry_.

Alex shuffled close to Harry on the bed, shocking Harry a little as he ran his hands from his narrow waist up his ribs and then back down again. A soft gesture but one that Alex was ultimately using to feel him under his clothes. Harry’s head snapped from Stanley to Alex with a gentle sigh, watching his hands on his body.

“You must be hot under this coat, love?” Alex’s voice was low and Harry gasped into it, nodding.

“Terribly.” His eyelashes fluttered as Alex's hands passed over his chest, knocking the brass buttons of the coat, pushing his hot hands up under the front of his ruff, massaging his shoulders.

“Well, that won’t do, will it?” And then he had Harry under each arm and was pushing him up away from him, forcing him to stand on the floor. “Help the poor boy with his coat, Stephen.”

Harry felt his back hit the warm chest of Dr Stanley where he was still standing at the edge of his bed. He yelped as two heavy hands pushed onto his shoulders, feeling Stanley’s breath on his neck, deliciously hot and ticklish down his spine, felt his chin brush against his hair slightly. Harry gasped as those hands slid down the flat plains of his chest, setting his skin on fire, pooling sensation in his groin.

Harry pressed his body back into Stanley’s, chasing his warmth, rewarded by a breath against the back of his ear as the man leaned into him, sending shivers up and down Harry’s flanks. His head pushed back into the man’s chest with a whine, feeling absolutely ludicrous that he should be acting such a way with a man who was effectively his superior, a man he had seen nearly every day.

Alex had settled himself in front of Harry and Harry felt his pulse pick up when he happened to glance down into the man’s face.

Alex had swung his legs over so they were both hanging off the bed, thighs on either side of Harry. His makeup was smudged, streaking red across his cheeks where he had pressed into Harry, his eyes sparkled as he looked up into Harry’s face, hands coming to rest on his hips.

Harry moaned at the sight and at the implication it provided, feeling his cock tingling with want, exasperated at the idea that the Doctor might pleasure him like this. Would he take him into his mouth? Or would he simply touch him like this? Whatever possibility Harry considered made his legs want to give out, his head falling back against Stanley as he ran his hands down the front of his chest.

“Coat, Stephen.” Alex reminded Stanley.

“Manners, Alexander.” Stanley’s voice was clipped and Alex simply smiled up at him, not making an effort to correct his vocabulary.

Stanley’s hands disappeared for a second, then Harry felt them at the back of his neck, gentle and precise, undoing that godforsaken ruff. He sighed as the material loosened from his collar, Stanley stripping him of it like a gentleman placing an expensive necklace around the neck of a lady, only in reverse. Divesting away instead of giving, leaving him open.

The chief surgeon discarded it to the floor besides them, and then Harry stiffened with a gasp as those hands creeped around his throat, over his high collar, thumbs pressing tenderly on either side of his vertebrae, fingers lacing carefully over his oesophagus.

Gently, oh so gently.

Stanley’s mouth came to the nape of Harry’s neck, pressing his lips to the sweaty hair there, breathing over him with an open mouth, and Harry could do little more than let him.

His mouth fell open, staring down into the lusty gaze of Alex’s hazel eyes.

Alex had taken each of his wrists and gently held them at his sides, limiting his movement.

“Shh, don’t be scared…” Stanley’s voice was thick and low behind him, hardwired into Harry’s spine. His fingers brushed under his jaw, palms hot against the sides of his throat. “I don’t find pleasure in hurting people, despite how I may seem.”

Harry closed his eyes, breathing shallowly, lifting his chin to allow Stanley better access despite his words, his body a hot wall pressing into Harry’s back.

“And I don’t want to hurt you, _Harry_ , not unless you really want me to.”

Harry’s name coming out of Stanley’s mouth sent a bolt of lightning through him, he rose to his tiptoes with the surge of pleasure it gave, but he was unable to do more than make a high noise at the back of his throat as he was held in place by those steady hands, both at his neck and his wrists.

“Do you want that?”

Harry’s head swam, eyes still closed.

He didn’t know what he wanted.

He didn’t want to be hurt, but he wanted to feel pain. Or more like he wanted the feeling of pain without the injury, wanted that feeling of suffocation, the helplessness of fear.

He wanted Dr Stanley to hurt him, but hurt him with tenderness, make him feel like a broken thing that needs care. Wanted him to be tender with him the way a bruise is tender. Bring out the pleasure in pain without the force.

He wanted this man to own him with his hands gently around his throat, never pushing down, never cutting off his blood. He wanted to experience that sweet spot between fear and ecstasy, between agony and orgasm, and he wanted to feel it over and over again until it _felt_ like pain- but wasn’t.

“ _Please…_ ” he spoke then, his voice shaking, his body twisting back, teeth gritting. “Please…I want…I…” He couldn’t find the words, frustration welling up, the sensation of restriction and pressure making his prick hard enough to weep.

Stanley breathed against his skin steadily, patiently. He moved his hands to slowly work at the first button of his coat, languidly pushing each circle of brass through the fabric, getting further and further down Harry’s body, making him squirm.

Then, as if he were a maiden, Stanley pushed his coat delicately off of his shoulders, running his warm hands over each arm as he went. Alex released his hold on his wrists momentarily to allow the coat to fall to the floor, both working in tandem.

“It’s okay, Harry.” Alex soothed, running his hands up the material of Harry’s waistcoat, pushing the open lapels of his frock coat aside as he went. Harry opened his eyes, stuttering around the unrelenting contact on his body, his hands gripping behind him into the material at the waist of Dr Stanley, and felt him gasp softly at the contact. “We will take care of you, if you will allow us?”

Harry moaned, a low noise that stuttered around an exhale.

“ _Yes please._ ” He all but cried, feeling shivers run up his sides, the backs of his thighs gelatinous.

“Good boy.” Stanley purred against his neck and Harry could have wilted, collapsed to his knees. Alex held him fast, pushing against his abdomen, smiling so, so kindly.

“Be careful what you say, Stephen, you almost stopped the poor thing’s heart.” Alex seemed to share a look over Harry’s shoulder then and he felt Stanley breath the ghost of a deep, dark laugh against his neck. _Oh, what a beautiful sound._

Alex's hands came down then, running past Harry’s hips, gripping his thighs softly and appreciatively, massaging the flesh there, watching Harry begin to shake under the attention. Then his hands rose, pulling at Harry’s shirt where it was tucked, pulling it free with a few careful yanks, never breaking eye contact.

Harry’s breathing all but stopped.

He had a few experiences below the belt with strangers in various broom closets and bars, but never as direct. Never in such harsh light before, never able to see the whites of his partner’s eyes- and usually he was the one on his knees. His partners barely looked at him, repaying him with often dry pulls that left Harry’s skin burning.

This may as well have been new to him.

As Alex worked at the fastenings of Harry’s trousers, Stanley was carefully working at his necktie, pulling it out of its knot with several firm twists of his wrist, the sound of the material sliding across itself almost making Harry unaware of his own laboured breathing as he watched Alex below him.

Carefully, Alex parted the material of his trousers, looking up at him from below his lashes, watching Harry’s chest rise and fall rapidly like a caught rabbit.

“Have you done this before, love?”

Harry felt his face heat with embarrassment, was it really that obvious?

“Um, no, I mean, _yes_ , but never like…this…never, um,- _OH_!”

Harry had reached within the fastenings of his drawers, running his fingertips over the hot, trapped flesh of Harry’s cock, effectively silencing him.

“Just relax, lad, it will feel lovely.”

Harry nodded, breathing hard through his nose as he tried to silence himself. He grabbed harder into the waistcoat behind him, twisting his fists in the material, drawing Stanley up closer behind him with shaking arms.

Stanley had made work of his necktie and collar, exposing the sensitive flesh of Harry’s throat and collarbones, folding his collar down to get at the skin at the back of his neck better.

Harry let his head fall rather dramatically to the side, allowing Stanley to stoop into the blazing heat between his neck and shoulder, running his closed mouth over the skin in an act that was so tender that Harry could have wept.

And then Harry _did_ weep, or at least made a noise _like_ it, because Alex had placed a broad, wet drag of his tongue along the underside of his now exposed prick.

Harry’s body jerked forward but Alex had placed a firm hand on his hips, no doubt anticipating this. The other hand was at the base of Harry’s cock where it sat in the webbing between Alex’s thumb and forefinger, heavy and red with engorgement, foreskin threatening to draw back and head wet with pre-ejaculate. Alex seemed to be admiring him and the action made Harry want to cringe away from him, feeling his stomach bind with faint humiliation.

Stanley’s chin had come to rest on Harry’s shoulder, observing down at Alex with uncertain breaths. Alex looked up at Harry, and then at Stanley, his breath catching in his throat.

Then he sank his mouth onto Harry’s length.

Harry cried out, his footing stumbling, his head falling back into Stanley’s chest. His hands flailed against the material of Stanley’s clothes, breathing hard, eyes screwed shut.

Stanley made a noise in the back of his throat, and then his arms were around Harry, locking him in a bear hug that restricted his movements, pressing him hard into the expanse of his chest. Harry could feel his heart hammering against his shoulder blade.

Alex's mouth was divine, hot and slippery, an undulating, rolling, slick pleasure that impaled steadily on and off of Harry’s prick. Harry felt his stomach stutter with breath, forcing himself to open his eyes and observe Alex. His body almost needed it, needing to make sense of the pleasure that was pressing through him, making him squirm.

Alex had his eyes closed in concentration, brow furrowed, but as Harry looked down, he looked up for a moment and their eyes locked. It was obscene. Is this what all those other men Harry had done this for had seen? Is that why they couldn’t look at him? This was debased, and yet Harry couldn’t look away, his whole body wanting to fold up into itself with every smooth pass of slippery tongue Alex pushed against his underside, unable to for the strong arms that held him still.

“ _Oh god!_ ” His legs were shaking, the pleasure rolling over his body like sweat, pinpricked down to the head of his cock as Alex drew off him with a lewd noise, saliva shining on his lips. “ _Oh, don’t stop please!_ ”

Alex breathed a laugh at Harry’s desperation, letting his eyes flutter closed with a groan. Unable to refuse, he pushed the head of Harry’s cock against the pink flat expanse of his tongue, his mouth open and quivering, before taking him into the suction of his cheeks once more.

Harry wailed, glad that Stanley was holding him as he was sure his bones had all shattered to pieces. His head rolled against Stanley’s chest, his body hot and only seeming to rise in temperature.

“God, Alexander.” Stanley sighed next to Harry’s ear, breath stuttering in sympathy with Harry’s as he watched the display. Harry panted, turning his head slightly to rub his cheek against Stanley. Stanley turned his mouth to his ear, still looking at Alex work his cock. “Is that good, hm?”

Harry gasped, the words seeming to coincide with every rush of pleasure Alex was injecting into his prick. Stanley gave another small noise that sounded like a laugh, his mouth coming back to the nape of Harry’s neck, planting a soft, open mouthed kiss there.

“Good boy. Is this what you wanted?” Stanley’s voice was soft and wrecked, Harry could feel the push of his erection against the small of his back, but he made no move to force his pleasure out against Harry’s body, staying masterfully still except from the pull of Harry’s body as he thrashed against his pleasure. “Is this what you wanted, _Harry_?” He repeated.

“ _Yes_ , oh, yes, _thank you_!” Harry screwed his eyes shut again as Alex danced his tongue along the head of his cock, his stomach tightening, folding him forwards, Stanley bending with him, “ _Thank you_ , oh _god_.” his voice a high whine in the back of his throat, almost a sob.

Stanley moaned then, deep and rich, reverberating through Harry’s body where he was pressed to his back. Harry gasped with it, the noise sending white light behind his eyelids.

“ _Good._ ” Was all he said, but it sounded like it took considerable effort.

And then Alex took him all the way down to the root of his cock, his nose- still partially painted red- nestling in the dark hairs there, and he swallowed, his throat constricting, breath stuttering through his nose, a slight gag passed over his face, accompanied by a small noise like a grunt at the base of Alex’s throat. His eyelashes fluttered, wetting, and Harry went rigid, pressure building in his pelvis with the consistency of hot treacle, piling on top of itself, sticky and molten.

“ _Oh, Alex, I- That-_ ” 

Alex drew up his cock then, sucking slowly up the length with purpose.

“ _Oh! It feels so good, so good…oh…so…good…so…”_ His lungs filled with a gasp then, sure he was about to reach his climax, but instead he felt a sudden emptiness and cold air on his cock.

It was funny how suddenly aggressive that made him, opening his eyes immediately to look down at Alex, who was smiling delightfully up at him as if nothing were amiss.

“Please don’t…don’t…why did you stop?”

“Oh, _A_ _lexander,_ you are _cruel_.” Stanley’s voice was like honey from behind him, still pressing his mouth into the nape of Harry’s neck, “The poor boy was _so close._ ”

Harry made a small noise of frustration in the back of his throat, feeling a flush of shame paint his cheeks at the mockingly endearing tone of Stanley’s voice. His cock jumped helplessly in front of him, jutting out so severely that it practically screamed for attention.

“Oh, I’m _sorry_ , Harry, but there would be no fun in letting you reach your finish now.” Alex purred, leaning back and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, taking more paint off of his face. 

Alex ran his hands up Harry’s stomach again, over Stanley’s arms where they still wrapped around his middle, stopping at the top of his waistcoat and making work of the buttons. Harry looked down at him, still put about by the orgasm that was snatched away from him, panting heavily, watching Alex make work of his clothes as if in a daze.

“Let go of the boy, Stephen, you’re going to crush him.” Alex teased, not lifting his gaze from where he was now undoing Harry’s shirt, revealing soft furred skin that heaved, glistened with sweat, dark hair thick and running perfectly down to meet the base of his cock where it still sat in the opening of his trousers. “…and anyway, I can’t get to his clothes properly with your arms over him, as much as I like it.”

Stanley let a sigh blow against the back of Harry’s neck, unwinding his arms carefully from around his body. Harry felt the pressure leave him with a swooping feeling in his stomach, and he almost grabbed at Stanley’s arms to keep them there, but then Alex had undone all his layers at the front, and he ran his hands flat against his body, running over his quivering stomach and over the soft hair at his chest.

Stanley’s hands were also on him, at his back, smoothing over the fabric at his shoulders, digging his fingers down his spine and across the bone of his pelvis, feeling him with medical accuracy, a soft pressure. Harry relaxed, his whole body feeling light and airy, the only force of pressure pulsed angrily in his cock, each touch on his body centring there, feeling the muscles pull at the base with an insistent rush of heat to the tip. He could barely breathe, but it wasn’t a panicked feeling, it felt peaceful. Like the power imbalance of being smothered with the softest and most expensive pillow. Laughable in its irony.

“Come here, sweet boy.” Alex gently pulled at the soft flesh of Harry’s waist, pulling him down until Harry had no choice but to kneel on the mattress.

Alex shuffled back until his back hit the wall, slouched to lean onto the curve of his pelvis, and continued to guide Harry until he was laid on him, his head on Alex’s chest and stomach pressing in between his legs. As Harry slid his arms around Alex’s waist, he could feel the man’s erection pushing into the soft, bare skin of his stomach.

“Allow me to apologise for so rudely depriving you.”

Alex moved his hands from Harry’s waist, sliding them up the hot flesh of his back under his layers, running his nails down the sweat there. Harry gasped as his bare cock was brought down onto the cool sheets below him, inches away from meeting the join in Alex’s thighs, sweet friction and pressure, trapping himself within the hot cave of his own stomach. He mewled, face drawing up to fix Alex with a long, languid kiss.

He felt Alex’s breath hitch as he ground his stomach into his concealed prick, and the noise enraptured him, wanting to hear more.

As he was kissing Alex, Harry felt the bed behind him lower with a pressure, and then he was aware of the heat of Dr Stanley’s body as he positioned himself between Harry’s legs from behind.

Alex broke the kiss, his hands removing themselves from under Harry’s clothes and placing themselves on his narrow shoulders, pushing under the fabric there, feeling every muscle tighten and relax.

“Turn around, there’s a good lad.” He whispered huskily.

Harry’s breath caught, swallowing dryly. He fumbled himself, twisting around until his back was against Alex's slouched stomach, head on his chest, and Stanley was kneeling in between his thighs.

Stanley’s great frame powered over him, the sight of him so close and so all-encompassing that it forced a moan out of Harry’s lungs. He squirmed back against Alex’s body, feeling the other man’s hardness pushing into his middle back with a small whine that Alex mirrored at the pressure.

Stanley had made work of his own ruff, which sat in a burgundy heap on top of Harry’s, and he was now leaning across to help Alex’s with his. For a moment Harry was crushed between the compress of their hot bodies as Stanley leaned his weight onto him, sending shocks of pleasure through his entire frame as Stanley’s clothing brushed rough and delicious against his exposed front. His head was completely buried into the middle of Stanley’s broad chest, his mouth pressed against the wool, legs hopelessly spread to accommodate him, his shoulders hot and pushing into Alex, the middle of his back crushing the Scot’s member between them.

“Oh, you’re heavy…” Alex breathed, seemingly talking to both of them. Stanley simply laughed, the vibrations of it running up Harry’s cock where it pressed against the man’s firm thigh, rubbing against the rough wool there.

Alex's ruff came into partial view of Harry where Stanley laid it on the bed beside them, and then a low noise rumbled through Stanley’s chest again as he kissed Alex, deep and unapologetic.

Harry’s body was caught between the two of them, feeling their chests rising and falling with their breath, bodies swaying into him. Harry made a noise, a gasp, and his hands came up to wrap firmly around the slight waist of the Doctor above him, pulling him further onto his body, his hips stuttering up into the harsh heat of his thigh.

Stanley stumbled from his embrace, knees giving out, causing his body to fall flat on Harry’s with a grunt, crushing his weight into Harry, smothering him in a blissful heat that culminated higher and higher as Harry pressed himself against him. He could hear- and feel- Alex laughing as Stanley adjusted his posture, pushing his hands against the bed to pull himself up again.

“Impetuous.” Was all he breathed, but he sounded less than pleased. Harry shivered against the tone in his voice, feeling like nothing more than a misbehaving patient in Stanley’s care.

The taller man adjusted their position, hiking Harry down by the crook of his knees until his head was in Alex's lap- the Scot’s erection pushing into his cheek with a sharp gasp- and Harry’s legs were over Stanley’s hips. He continued to kneel on the edge of the bed, his polished shoes resting their toe on the floor for leverage.

Harry let out an undignified squeal as he was manhandled, the nakedness of his front utterly exposed and spread, his cock laying flat against his stomach, trousers pulling down slightly on his hips, revealing sharp hip bones.

Stanley leaned down, his face now inches from Harry’s where he lay prone. Their breath intermingled. The doctor’s sharp eyes passed over each of his features with a studious care. Harry breathed up at him, painfully silent.

“May I kiss you, Mr Goodsir?”

The question was almost ridiculous, but then Harry realised that Stanley hadn’t touched his body yet in the same way Alex had been doing. Was he nervous to touch him? Surely not, Harry didn’t think the man had ever been nervous in his life.

There was a rising tension between them.

“Yes.” Harry breathed, feeling Stanley’s breath against his cheeks. The man swallowed hard above him, hesitating. “Yes, _please_.”

Stanley’s face slackened, and he leaned in, gently at first, and then not gentle at all. Harry gasped, moaning opened-mouthed and beautifully up into Stanley. His hands searched backwards, above his head, and he found Alex’s waist, pulling at him meaninglessly.

Alex made a noise from above them, carding his hand through Stanley’s hair, another hand came down next to the two of them, squeezing at his cock through his trousers.

Stanley broke the kiss then, leaving Harry to arch up into him as he moved away, pushing his nose onto the top of Alex's hand where he was touching himself.

“Let me.” His voice was soft and gravelled. Alex bought his hand away and Stanley buried his face into the hard shape of the other man's cock, breathing deeply, tonguing at the length over his clothes with an open mouth.

Alex moaned sweetly, arching back against the wall, up into both their figures where they lay in his lap, his hand coming to tangle in Harry’s hair, rubbing down his whiskers, cupping his jaw, as if he couldn’t touch Harry’s face enough- suddenly hungry for it. His other hand was resting lightly on the back of Stanley’s neck, pulling at the hair on his nape softly, eliciting a small growl as the other continued to tease him through his clothes with his mouth.

Harry watched the display next to him and moaned, bucking his hips up into Stanley, feeling an immense swell of pleasure when his own cock found the hard shape of his superior’s. Stanley didn’t react verbally, but his body pushed down, his knees sliding further apart onto the bed so as to chase that pressure. Harry wrapped an arm around the man’s waist, pulling him down on him, wrapping his legs around him to crush their pricks together in a delicious rutting friction, of which Harry took full control of setting pace.

“God, Stephen, hold on…” Alex stuttered and Stanley’s face fell to rest his cheek on Alex’s thigh, looking up at him patiently but hungrily through his blonde lashes. His breath was coming out hard as Harry continued to rut his exposed prick against Stanley's clothed one, grinding his hips up with a punishing pressure, trying to squeeze some reaction out of the Doctor, wanting to really hear him come apart.

Stanley rewarded him with a brief pull shut of his eyes, fixing them on Harry’s as he opened them, staring into where Harry’s face lay opposite his on the other of Alex's thighs.

Alex worked quickly between them, pulling at the fastenings of his trousers, lifting his hips to allow him to slide down the wall a little. Stanley’s gaze snapped away from Harry to Alex's hand then, watching with a flicker of muscle in his jaw as Alex freed his prick from its confines.

Harry let his mouth fall open as he watched it bob free, heavy and wet with pre-ejaculate, drawn back and exposed. The musk of it hit his senses within seconds, making his hips stutter against the bed, squirming his length against Stanley’s.

His own pre-cum had lubricated the slide of his foreskin over his prick as he pushed against the wool of Stanley’s trousers, making the friction both burning and slippery. He grit his teeth against it.

Harry had never once imagined that he might see (Chief Surgeon) Dr. Stephen S. Stanley sink his mouth over another man’s cock, let alone _enjoy_ it. Yet, it was this vision that was now playing out in front of him. His eyes closed with concentration, mouth open wide and throat relaxing and constricting in turn, thin lips pushed up flush against the pubic bone and- surprisingly auburn- curls of Dr McDonald with practiced ease, as if he had tackled this length many times before and was familiar with it. Harry shivered as he realised that he most likely _was_.

Alex moaned heavily above them, his back twisting and arching, his hand pulling in the dark curls of Harry's hair, the other digging his nails in at the back of Stanley’s neck, snaking under the high collar of his shirt to get at more skin.

Harry took his arm and joined it with his other around Stanley’s hot waist, pulling him so that he lay flat on top of him, crushing him into the bed, winding him.

Alex hummed appreciatively as the lower angle meant Stanley had to work harder to pull off of his length, pushing him deeper down his throat.

Stanley gagged rather sloppily, but- by god- he didn’t stop, he growled around Alex’s prick as if he were a wild animal, drooling down his chin in a way that would have looked submissive on any other man, but on his sharp features and tight scowl it simply looked ravenous, like a predator.

“ _Oh, Stephen._ ” McDonald gasped at the sight, his hand tenderly holding Stanley’s jaw as it worked. He bought the leg that Harry wasn’t leaning on up, hooking it over Stanley’s shoulder, taking advantage of the way he was laid flat on the bed now because of Harry’s hold on him.

Harry wriggled against the pressure on his cock, keening, his head falling back into Alex’s fingers as they rubbed circles into his scalp. He felt Stanley’s hips cant down, grinding into the heat Harry provided, and it made his vision spin. Suddenly it wasn’t enough.

Harry inched sideways, bringing his face closer to the base of Alex's cock, enamoured as he watched Stanley pull back to the tip, breathing out through his nose as he sank down again, making McDonald buck his hips, jolting Harry.

“ _May I touch you, Dr Stanley?_ ” Harry mirrored Stanley’s question, speaking as close to his ear as he could get while the man moved. His eyes opened, spluttering around the length in his mouth for a second before drawing off, looking up at Alex’s face briefly as he caught his breath.

He wrestled his weight up on one elbow, holding the base of Alex's cock, swallowing around the saliva built up in his throat a few times before looking at Harry.

“ _Yes._ ”

Dear god, his voice was wrecked.

Alex moaned at this, bringing his hand up from Stanley’s jaw to push at the hair behind his ear, running his nails over the scalp.

“Oh, _yes,_ Harry.” Alex pitched, his hips squirming, face tight with want. “Touch him. _Touch him for me._ ”

Harry didn’t need to be told twice.

He wriggled his body, sucking in a breath at that divine friction again as Stanley continued his ministration, sinking back onto Alex's cock with ease. Harry unwound a hand from Stanley’s waist, feeling his heart in his throat as he wormed it between their bodies- slightly less crushed now due to Stanley leaning up on one elbow- and reached the hem of his trousers.

He considered for a second, as much as he could with the obscene noises next to him, whether to unfasten him or not.

Alex twisted his hands in Harry’s hair as he sighed against Stanley’s mouth, sending sparks down Harry’s back and into his cock, making him rise off the bed and push his body up into Stanley.

No longer thinking, driven by want, he worked at the buttons of Stanley’s trousers and plunged his hand into the depth of his drawers. Stanley made a low hum, breath leaving his nose quickly as he continued to work Alex, running his tongue over his under ridge.

Harry gasped, feeling Stanley’s cock pulse deathly hot and rock solid as he gripped him. He stayed for a while, simply feeling out the length of him, before pulling him from the confines of his layers and out, onto his own bare stomach.

Because of Stanley’s position on top of him, Harry couldn’t get a good look down to study the man, but he could feel that his length had a good girth. It sat heavy with need across Harry’s palm, a slickness making itself known as Harry ran his fingers up over the foreskin.

“Mm, that’s it, Harry, run your thumb under the hood, he loves that.” Alex's wrecked voice wavered above him and Harry looked up, finding that Alex was staring down into his face. Stanley made a noise next to him, as if in protest of Alex talking about him so openly.

He worked his jaw off of Alex’s length, as if about to say something characteristically snappy, but his voice died in his throat as Harry swiped his thumb over the topside of his sensitive head.

Stanley’s head bowed, moaning into the crook of Alex's cock with an open mouth, his hips jerked down, finding friction on Harry’s warm stomach. Harry gasped at the sound, wanting more, running his thumb over the head again, watching as Stanley’s eyes fell closed, his breathing stuttering hard.

Alex made a low laugh, running his hand up and down Stanley’s back, that is until Stanley returned his mouth on Alex’s cock with a newfound vigour. No longer slow and teasing and languid, but punishing and fast. Alex cried out, canting his hips, head knocking back against the wall.

Harry moaned then, his own need too much to ignore, he let go of his hold on Stanley’s cock and bought his hands around his waist again, clawing at his hips, grinding the man down on top of him. Miraculously, their lengths found each other and Harry was pushed into a pleasure driven daze, feeling the slick pull and push of the hard hot flesh of their cocks as they slid haphazardly over one another. Stanley’s making contact with the furred, hot flesh of Harry’s stomach, and Harry’s bumping past Stanley’s to collide in sweet friction against the wool of the man’s clothes.

Harry's head fell to the side, watching Stanley as his mouth impaled on and off of Alex. The scot's cock was shining and oh so red from the suction, his thighs shaking, one still hauled over Stanley’s strong shoulder. Stanley’s pace wasn’t as controlled as before, his breathing coming out uneven from his nose, his eyes screwed shut in private pleasure as he matched Harry’s rutting.

Harry, in wild throes of passion, moved his hands down, gripping at Stanley’s arse in order to further push him down onto himself. He was rewarded by a choking noise, and he watched as Stanley pulled off of Alex enough to glare sideways at him, before being lost to the pleasure again.

Alex was making short, almost manic moans, his head craning back against the wall, all the tendons in his neck standing out and his hands shaking as they continued to tangle in Harry’s hair, only heightening his own pleasure.

“ _Oh, Stephen, I-_ ” his words tumbled out of his mouth, barely formed around moans, “ _You’re going to-_ ” Alex let his head fall forwards, watching Stanley as he worked him, lower lip caught tight between his teeth, brow furrowed.

Stanley sank down then, fully onto Alex's length and Harry gasped- lost in his own pleasure- at the image. Stanley swallowed, breathing steady, his lips pulled taut and bloodless against the root of Alex’s cock and, without thinking, Harry shuffled over and placed a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“ _Oh, Jesus!_ ” Alex had lost it at the display, his back arched, legs shaking, he came undone straight down Stanley’s throat.

Stanley grunted around him, his throat moving, swallowing, and then giving Alex a few more passes with his mouth before coming up completely. He panted, looking up at Alex for a split second, and then his mouth was on Harry’s, scorching and tasting of musk.

Harry squirmed under him, delicious, slick friction on his cock unrelenting as Stanley plundered his mouth. He pulled back, looming above Harry. Harry watched in fascination as Stanley passed his hand over his jaw, collecting the drool there, and then- _Jesus_ \- he spat onto his palm, all while making direct eye contact.

He pulled back onto his knees, separating their bodies, ignoring how Harry whined, and then he wrapped one of his steady hands around Harry’s cock and suddenly Harry didn’t care about the position anymore.

It was the first time he had touched him like this, his hand was sure and steady, palm warm and slick and covering Harry with a maddeningly precise pressure, his thumb rolling down his foreskin, fist twisting over the head with every stroke, and Harry could have sobbed. He arched into the touch, frame lifting almost entirely off the bed, grabbing at Stanley’s shoulders.

Stanley let himself be moved by him as Harry pulled him down, wrapping his legs around his waist, feeling Stanley’s hot prick pushing into his stomach. Stanley hissed a breath through his teeth at the contact.

Alex, who was slowly coming back to himself, moved under Harry, bringing the hand that was in his hair down to the crook of his jaw, stroking his whiskers.

“Sh, sh…” he said, his voice low, “Let him take care of you.”

Stanley let his head droop, resting his forehead on Harry’s, his breath skating across his face as Harry lifted his hips, thrusting up into Stanley’s fist and simultaneously sliding his stomach across Stanley’s cock as he went. And then Stanley had the both of them in his hand, his own prick squeezed against Harry’s, both slipping against one another in glorious, hot friction.

“ _Oh!_ ” Harry softly shouted, he's never felt anything quite like this before. his head fell back, hands gripping both to Alex’s forearm and Stanley’s shoulder as the doctor ground down into his fist above him. “ _Oh my god!_ ”

“That’s it, hen.” Alex cooed, running his fingers through the whiskers at the join of Harry’s jaw. “Come apart for us.”

“Oh, _please,_ ” Harry’s eyes closed, hand clenching tightly in the material at Stanley’s shoulder, canting his hips into his fist, over the slippery length of the other man's cock, feeling the doctor's fingers bump over his sensitive head over and over again. “ _Please say…call me…_ ” He struggled, throat hitching, not wanting to say it for fear of humiliation.

Stanley breathed a pitiful laugh, his breath still intermingled with Harry’s, and then he pulled himself up a little so as to better look down on him.

“Call you a _good boy_?” his voice was coming directly from his chest as he spoke, mocking sincerity.

Harry screwed his eyes shut tighter, teeth gritting, thrusting rapidly in the slick compress. He was so close.

“ _Yesss_ ” He hissed, unable to say more.

“Yes?” Stanley’s voice was masterfully still, despite his stomach beginning to tighten with the threat of his own release.

“ _Yes, please_!”

“Oh, _good boy_.”

Harry arched, a high noise escaping his throat, his legs beginning to shake. Alex admitted a low chuckle above him, and he slipped his thumb into the wet hot cave of Harry’s mouth. Harry immediately turned his head, running his tongue over his thumb with a sloppy determination one might expect of a man so close to his crisis.

Stanley had leaned over him again, his hand resting next to Harry’s head as his fist worked them in tandem. His breathing was heavy, stuttering.

“That’s it, _good boy,_ ” Stanley laboured again, "let go for us." Harry felt everything in his pelvis tighten all of a sudden, his breath catching in his throat, eyes shut, white hot light behind his senses, and then he came undone.

He felt Alex gasp above him as his cock emptied in hot streaks across his exposed stomach, Stanley’s hand continuing to work as his body shook and prick pulsed. Alex had moved his thumb so that it was tucked away in his cheek, allowing for a terrible moan to escape from Harry as if he were a dying animal, head thrashing, body tightening.

And then Stanley’s hand was off him.

Harry let out a breath, his body felt like it was sinking into the bed, his legs weak where they still hung around Stanley’s hips. Alex removed his thumb from his mouth. He could hear Stanley’s voice above him, strained and breathing hard.

“See, Alexander…” He was saying through gritted teeth. Harry opened his eyes to find Stanley above him, working his own cock ferociously in his fist, eyes trained on Alex. “Mr Goodsir uses his manners, and see where that gets him?”

Alex's tone was steady, his breathing hitched as he watched Stanley work himself over.

“Is that what you want from me, _sir_?”

Stanley gasped then, his brow knitting together with confusion and shock, as if Alex had never once called him ‘sir’.

“ _Oh,_ look at you, it is, isn’t it?” He laughed, “ _Sir!_ ” Stanley’s body tensed, folding forwards with the thrusts of his fist, mouth falling open, eyes never leaving Alex, “Want me to use my manners, do you, sir? Hm? _Be a good boy for you_?”

“ _Yes._ ”

“Yeah?” Alex leaned over then, folding Harry as he watched them in awe, both hands grasping onto Stanley’s face, pulling him close. “Want me to _beg_ for it? Say ‘ _please sir_ ’?” His mouth was on Stanley’s, but he didn’t kiss him, “Say: _‘Please sir, fuck me, I’ll be a good boy for you’_?”

Stanley made a noise then, a loud moan ripping from his throat, a moan mixed with surprise, as if he hadn’t even known he had the noise in him.

“Oh, look at you, it really works you up doesn’t it? _Being obeyed?_ ” Alex laughed then as Stanley’s eyes closed, “ _Pathetic._ ”

And then Stanley was climaxing. He came with a surprised shout as if he hadn’t expected it, folding forwards, his forehead pushing against Alex's. Hot ropes of his crisis fell over Harry’s stomach, mingling with his own fluids, making him emit a low whimper as he was used.

“Oh my god, did you just finish because I called you ‘pathetic’?” Alex sounded absolutely gleeful at this discovery. Stanley, still not out of his come down, made a sharp gasp, his eyes closing further as if he wanted to disappear. “This is new!”

“Shut up.” He managed to croak out, which of course only made Alex happier.

He leaned away from Stanley then, looking down at Harry, stroking his hair.

“You okay, lad?” His eyes were warm and, before Harry could answer, he had leaned down to give Harry an upside-down kiss. Harry sighed into it, his fingers coming up to touch the man’s tousled hair.

Stanley moved quietly from between Harry’s legs, patting his knee gently as he unhooked them from his waist. Harry then felt a rough material on his stomach, wiping him down with medical precision, and was entertained to break from the kiss and see Stanley cleaning him up with one of the ruffs that had been discarded.

“Can’t use those again.” He muttered, his voice lisped and soft with fatigue.

“I suppose not.” Alex's brogue was soothing. He thought then for a while, a small smile twisting onto his lips; “We make the funniest circus act I’ve ever seen, that’s for sure.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading this! I know it was a hefty one!  
> The next fic I will be publishing will be another (late) prompt for the rarepair week and will be Hickey/Goodsir, so keep your eyes open for that if it's your thing!  
> you can find me on:  
> tumblr [@dragonwycks](https://dragonwycks.tumblr.com/)  
> twitter [@stinkyarttt](https://www.twitter.com/stinkyarttt)  
> If you enjoyed this please consider leaving a comment!


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